


The End

by leonheart2012



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Gay Noctis Lucis Caelum, I Made Myself Cry, I'm Sorry, I'm not kidding it's really sad, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, So much angst, Spoilers, really sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 14:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20155300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonheart2012/pseuds/leonheart2012
Summary: The last chapter of Final Fantasy XV told from Noctis' perspective, with a heavy dose of Promptis. Or...Noctis really wanting there to be Promptis





	The End

Noctis wasn't sure when it had happened, but at some point, he'd fallen in love with his best friend. It was the only thing he could focus on. All of his days blended together in the endless loop that came from the attentiveness to only one person. He felt as though he was floating on air, as though there really was nothing else but the precious monotony of devotion. Wherever Prompto went, he followed, and in his mind, there was nothing sweeter.

He still remembered the first time they'd met, when Prompto had fallen over, and he'd helped him up. He remembered watching Prompto get thinner and thinner.

Maybe it had been then, watching him, that his infatuation had started. Maybe it had been that first day after three years of hard work, when Prompto had finally gathered the courage to talk to him. Maybe it had been in the years following, when Prompto had started coming with him to the arcade, started hanging out with him outside of school as well as in it. Or maybe it had started when they'd set out on the road, sleeping next to each other under the stars or in hotel beds, exhausted from days filled with physical activity. Maybe that was when Noctis had finally started noticing how beautiful Prompto looked with his hair tousled from sleep, or how sexy his tightly fitting jeans made his ass look.

He had become hyper aware of where Prompto's eyes strayed, conscious of every girl who caught his attention, jealous of every moment spent with someone else. He had come to loathe any second spent apart from him. He followed him around like a lost puppy, getting upset when Prompto tried to shake him for a few minutes to himself.

He was most content when they were all sitting in the Regalia; when his eyes were closed against the sun, his face upturned, Prompto humming along to the radio, drumming the beat on his thigh, the soft buzz of the engine a constant undertone. Already, he missed the feeling of being in the Regalia, and they hadn't even been five minutes out of it.

If Noctis had his way, he would be strapped in, taking off on a lifelong trip across the world, just driving with the wind in his hair, Prompto by his side, sharing soft kisses and warm looks. He wanted to lie in bed with him snuggled into his side, caress his downy blonde locks and laze the day away. He wanted to walk the beaches and watch Prompto take pictures of the water. He wanted to take his hand and wed it, bring him to a marital bed and share it, buy a pet and tame it, adopt a child and raise it.

He wanted Prompto.

He opened his eyes and saw a world of darkness. He had no idea how much time had passed, but it must have been a lifetime. Sulphur permeated the air, making each breath sting. His brain supplied religious imagery of Hell, and he wondered if he was there, but when he stepped out of the cave, he was in familiar terrain. He made his way back to the shore, his back and arms and legs and chest - everything - aching, as if in the body of an old man. When he emerged from the sea, he removed his clothes and looked around at what used to be Galdin Quay.

It was deserted.

Tables and chairs left scattered, pots and pans abandoned, rotted fish bones littered, cupboards emptied.

A lump rose in his throat, and he wondered what he would ever do if Prompto hadn't made it. If Ignis and Gladiolus hadn't made it. Righting a discarded chair, Noctis sat and buried his face in his hands, scratching at the beard he had no memory of growing. He felt older. What reflection he caught of himself looked older, but he had aged not a day in his mind. He had spent an eternity lost in the nothingness of the Crystal, and was now going to spend an eternity lost in the nothingness of a world overtaken by his failure.

Slowly, he became aware of the sounds of daemons approaching. He pulled his clothes back on and readied himself for a fight.

The daemons were much stronger than Noctis had ever anticipated, and they just kept coming. Noctis, unaccustomed to running from any fight, ran. He ran up the road that had once been perfectly sealed and picturesque, now torn and dilapidated, in a sorry state of disrepair.

And then, in a world he'd thought empty save for himself and the daemons, he saw the flashing of headlights, the roar of an engine, the sounds of gunshots. The truck stopped right next to him, and he climbed in, reassured by the friendly, if slightly unfamiliar, face of Talcott.

On the way, Noctis asked many questions, but Talcott had few answers. Over the last few months, the daemons had become even more frenzied than before, crowding around the shoreline of Galdin Quay, as if waiting, and so the survivors had waited too, scanning the beach daily for any signs of life. He had been gone for ten years. Ignis, Gladiolus and Prompto were fine.

Finally, having recieved the most pressing information, Noctis slumped against the door of the car and closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. They were okay.

As soon as the car stopped, he was out the door. He had every intention of sweeping them off their feet, pulling them into hugs and laughing, crying, telling them how sorry he was, but as soon as he saw their expressions, it evaporated. Each of them held something, deep in their eyes, in their souls, that weeped the ugly suffering of loss. As he scanned their faces, not even Prompto's eyes could light the situation.

He stumbled forward on clumsy legs and looked Gladiolus in the eyes. When he blinked, he saw the flash of a woman, a child held in her arms, smiling at Gladiolus, and then she was gone, and Gladiolus was weeping by two graves, one unbearably small.

His eyes met with Prompto's, and all he saw was emptiness. A deep, black well, which had no end in sight.

Ignis, his pillar of strength, was the only one not a husk. Even though his eyes were dead, his face held the same loyalty and solidarity it had always held. Noctis lifted his hand, and placed it on Ignis' shoulder, his heart shattering.

Nothing would be the same.

The crackling fire was warm. Noctis tried not to shy away from it, but the cold numbness seeping through his veins didn't allow him to bask in the comfort of the orange glow as he once did. His eyes flitted to the faces of his companions, and he cursed himself for taking them for granted.

While on the road, he had argued with Gladiolus, slept in despite Ignis' insistences, buried his feelings for Prompto. He had whined and argued and lazed. He'd taken up so much of their precious time fishing, wasting away whole days without realising it with them standing at his back, shouting encouragement at just the right moments. 

His vision blurred, and he blinked away the tears. "The four of us around a campfire..."

He'd almost won. Ardyn was a pile of quivering ashes, the throne empty, the ring of the Lucii tight on his finger, a weight on his hand. Some sadistic part of him wanted to leave the throne room and see what had happened to his friends. If they were still alive. What would he even say if they were? Would he pull Prompto aside and kiss him goodbye? Would he hug them?

He shook his head at the foolish thought.

If he didn't do this, people would continue to suffer, to die. If he didn't do this, he would be a bad king. If he didn't do this, he would have failed his people.

Prompto would understand, if he turned back now. Ignis and Gladiolus would, too. But would they ever forgive him? Would he forgive himself? He shook his head again. He had to do this. There was only one choice.

The first blade crashing through his chest burned like a shard of ice. He gasped, trying to still his breath, his body instinctively trying to hold on to life.

The next felt like a cascade of ice-cold water being poured directly into his veins. He gripped the hilt of the sword tighter, crying out in pain, the end of it trailing off into a breathless gasp.

One after another, they crashed like waves against his body, pulsing from his heart to his hand, the ring absorbing each power as they slowly chipped away at his life-force. Pain ripped through him, making his grip weak, until there was only one left; his father, the most recent king of Lucius.

His head bowed, he remembered every moment of his journey. The laughter, the tears, the fights, the dreams, the nightmares, the hopes he'd held onto, even up to this moment, and he let them go. He held no more regrets, no more pain, no more love or hate, no more happiness or sadness. He was a shell, ready for the last wave of destiny to crush him against the rocks of fate.

Slowly, he lifted the sword his father had held for so many years, asking him to take it into his grasp one final time. "Dad..." He said, his arm shaking with the effort. "Trust in me."

Finally, the last blade was imbedded in his chest, pinning him to the throne, and he groaned out his last breath.

In a flash of light, he was transported to another world, a vortex of blinding brilliance. He warped into the pool, and came face to face with Ardyn, who took a final bow, as if at the final act of a particularly bittersweet tragedy.

Revealing his daemonic face, he reached out to Noctis, before growling and groaning, being surrounded by a soft yellow light, and Noctis felt the presence of his oldest friend, Luna. Sensing it was the right moment, he released the armiger, the kings emerging one final time. The pain was excruciating. When they'd all struck their final blows, Ardyn was no more, and Noctis, his work finally done, laid himself to rest.

_It's finally over..._


End file.
